Invader Zim and the Midlife Crisis of Red
by CDingo
Summary: Even Tallests need vacations! It just so happens that this one is about to go horribly, horribly wrong... ((Chapter four uploaded! Pink Panther, enter stage right. No, sorry, I mean Dib. Not the Pink Panther. But I do like the Pink Panther!))
1. Chapter One: Deya's Fate

Title: Invader Zim and the Mid-life Crisis of Red Dedicated to: Mom! AN: This is a story I wrote with my bestest friend, Rachel, also known as Red&Purple. It started with an in-joke about an IZ site we RP at, but then wouldn't leave us alone until we put it into words. So here it is. Ta-da! Disclaimer: Invader Zim and all related indicia is copyrighted to Jhonen Vasquez and Nickelodeon. All we own is Deya, and obscure referenced to completely fictional planets, such as Bahamia and Deformita.  
  
It was just another day at the office. Another hectic, juice-deprived day, full of whiny, needy Irkens and complicated problems that involved too much thinking. Red was absolutely sick of his job, and today, on top of it all, he had a migraine.  
  
That, and no juice smoothie.  
  
So, to recap; Red's job sucked. He had a headache. And he had no smoothie. He didn't think he could take it much longer.  
  
"So I says to Mabel, I says, 'You better give me some of that popcorn!' I mean, she was three feet shorter than me and she had the nerve to even consider defying me? ME? Tallest PURPLE? Anyways, I..."  
  
And that was the point where Red stopped thinking he couldn't take it, and started knowing he couldn't take it. He slammed one two-fingered fist down onto the control board, startling his co-worker into silence.  
  
"That is IT! I cannot take another MOMENT of life on this juiceless SHIP!" He screamed. The entire control deck of the ship went completely silent; the pilots stopped pulling on their little levers or pushing their little buttons or twisting their little knobs. Even the machines seemed to go silent for a moment.  
  
"Your incompetence SICKENS me!" Red yelled, then turned and stormed out of the room. Purple paused, jaw hanging slack in his sockets. He hadn't even gotten to finish his story...  
  
And behind the scenes, the Invaders to the Tallest were buzzing frantically. Red had just taken off in a neon-crimson Voot Cruiser, apparently experiencing some kind of mid-life crisis. One of the two most vital supports had suddenly been yanked out from beneath the unstable Irken government. Blasphemous conversations, discussions of fraud and scandal and cover-up, flitted through the air in the deepest rooms of the Massive. Among these words, one general phrase was most common.  
  
"Fetch Deya."  
  
And so 'Deya' was fetched. Deya proved to be a rather bemused purple-eyed Irken, normally on Smeet-surveillance duty. She was yanked off her shift and whisked up to the Massive via cramped juice transportation vehicle, and passed off to the aides of the advisors for 'transformation'. Deya was the advisor's fail-safe, someone who could stand in for an Irken of public importance, until a more appropriate solution was reached. Last time, she had played Miyuki for a few hours until the advisors could prepare a statement to release to the oblivious Irken populous about the Tallest's unfortunate demise. Now, it was time for her to play Red.  
  
"Okay, now tell me again what I'm doing?"  
  
"Red's vanished. We might have been able to smooth it over, if it hadn't been for the explosion at the Northern Irk Smeet factory earlier today. Now Purple's left running the planet and the advisors have their hands full with the Smeet thing. And we can't let everyone else know that. Thing of the chaos that would cause. So we just need you to be Red until he returns or someone better can be found." Explained a short, pudgy Irken with crooked antennae as he poked giant red contacts into her eyes without warning. He was one of advisor's attendants, generally in charge of all the dirty work that came with being the hand in the puppet of the government.  
  
"Oh. Well, that's not strange at all." Deya said sarcastically, trying out her new contacts by rolling her eyes. The half-dozen Irkens buzzing about Deya proceeded to paint her skin a shade darker green, tape thin straws to her curly antennae to straighten them out and pluck her eyelashes. Then came a quickly-constructed voice box re-shaper that was stuffed unceremoniously down her throat.  
  
And last, the suit. She was shorter than Red, and not quite as freakishly skinny in the waist area. Some modifications were made to the lower section of the costume to make her appear taller, and everything seemed in order. Until they tried to put it on.  
  
"My god, stop! My ribs do not bend that way!" Deya cursed as the chubby little Irken jerked on the metal middle section. It was worse than a corset from the planet Deformita for her.  
  
"Suck it in!" The attendant yelled, pulling extra hard. Deya felt something within her torso crack, but at last the suit fit. Never mind the fact that she was in excruciating agony.  
  
When it was over, she was given a scrambled de-briefing on the current conversation, and shoved into the control room that Purple was occupying.  
  
Feeling as if thousands of eyes were watching her (and they were) Deya-Red scratched the back of her head and coughed.  
  
"So...umm...Mabel popcorn...and...stuff...yeah..." 


	2. Chapter Two: An Unfortunate Crash Landin...

Meanwhile, Red set his Voot-Cruiser coordinates to Bahamia, the planet of  
the neverending spring break. He could almost taste the margarita salt in  
his mouth, feel the sunscreen on his face, the sand a few inches below his  
feet, the hot sun scorching his antennae...burning...burning...burning...  
"HOLY CRAP MY SHIP'S ON FIRE!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, rudely  
awakened from his reverie by the hull of his ship twisting and buckling  
beneath a sheet of blue-white flame. A fist-size asteroid had punctured his  
gas tank, setting the entire ship ablaze.  
"Computer, find me the coordinates of the nearest planet NOOOOWWWW!" Red  
commanded his ship. After a moment, the location selected popped up on the  
soon-to-be-melted screen, and Red groaned as the androgynous voice of his  
ship recited the planet's information.  
"You have selected: Earth.  
Emergency crash-landing will commence."  
  
Cut to Foodcourtia. Deya and Purple sat at an enormous smoothie bar, Deya  
looking distinctly nervous and Purple looking distinctly oblivious. Both of  
them were sucking on 72-ounce orange smoothies. Suddenly, Purple's eyes  
narrowed and he looked over at 'Red' suspiciously. Deya froze, and not just  
because of her monster brainfreeze.  
"Hey..." Purple began. "I thought you hated orange smoothies..." He said  
slowly. Deya swallowed her mouthful of orange-flavored slush and tried  
frantically to come up with a answer.  
"No, that was you..." She said at last. Purple stared at her for an endless  
stretch of silence, then stood up and shouted at the clerks at the smoothie  
bar.  
"You're right! I hate orange!" Declared Purple, upending his half-drunk  
slushie on top of one of the clerk's heads. "Get me a coconut!" Another  
clerk saluted and rushed off, returning momentarily with a gargantuan  
coconut smoothie. Purple sighed in satisfaction, once again taking his seat  
next to Deya. Before he could get his mouth around the bright blue straw,  
it sank into the white slush and out of view. Purple poked his pointy  
fingers into his drink, but couldn't retrieve it. He looked over at 'Red,'  
calmly slurping on her orange smoothie, and then poked her in the shoulder.  
  
"Hey, Red...I'm just gonna borrow one of these." He said, then reached over  
and plucked one of the straws from behind Deya's antenna. Instantly it  
sproinged back to it's natural curly shape, leaving the other one remaining  
suspiciously straight. Deya clapped a hand over her antenna and looked  
around frantically, but Purple meanwhile was completely clueless, and  
proceeded to suck down his drink through the new straw.  
"Ineedagothebathroom." Deya said quickly, rising from her seat and zooming  
towards the bathrooms. On the way, she plucked a new straw from the  
dispenser, and then disappeared.  
  
Red slowly regained consciousness, his vision dim and blurry. He looked up  
at the ceiling, crawling in thick, snakelike chords, and then lifted a hand  
to his aching forehead.  
  
"Oh, my slarking forehead...why am I not at Bahamia?" He mumbled, and tried  
to rise. Tight straps bound him to the crisp, hospital-eqsue bed. Confused,  
Red once again attempted to get off the bed. And once again, the  
constricting leather straps held him down. He began to panic and started  
thrashing around, only to be pulled up short by a searing pain in his legs.  
  
"Ow! Damn it, my legs!" He howled. A door somewhere out of his view slid  
open, and he heard footsteps approaching. His eyes opened wide and he tried  
to twist his head to get a glimpse of the figure. But he was unable to see  
who...or what...was drawing nearer until they popped up in his face.  
"My Tallest! You have awakened! How fortunate your Voot-Cruiser happened to  
crash land in my very own front yard!" A familiar, grating voice drilled  
into his ears. Before him, still hazy in Red's disoriented state, was the  
nightmarish face of the cursed Invader Zim. 


	3. Chapter Three: The Bacon, the Sock, and ...

Title: Invader Zim and the Mid-life Crisis of Red, Chapter Three: The Bacon, the Sock, and the Bathroom Author: Zim, with a healthy dose of Red&Purple A/N: By far Red&Purple's favorite. At last, GIR makes an appearance! This chapter is dedicated to Kristen/Koy, my own personal, extremely non- offensive little GIR. No offence or anything...  
  
Deya had at last been permitted to retire to her quarters, or rather Red's quarters, for the evening. With a groan, she unbuckled the metal corset and stretched, glad to allow her ribs to take their natural shape again. She pressed a spot at the bottom of her throat and caught the voice box re- shaper as it popped out of her mouth. Last, she took the constricting straws out from behind her antennae and smiled. It was very relieving to be out of that infernal disguise.  
  
She didn't remove the hover belt, however; that was just nifty. Instead, she hovered across the metal floor to the mirror, the frame inlaid with tiny red lights. Deya noticed a button near the base of the mirror, and curiously, she leaned forward and pressed it.  
  
Instantly, multi-colored laser lights flooded the room, momentarily blinding her. They came from everywhere; the walls, the mirror frame, even the headboard of the Spartan bed.  
  
"Augh! My eyes!" She shouted, one hand covering her eyes and the other hand scrabbling for the button. Once the lasers were safely off, she glanced around as if she expected to have an audience, then shrugged and began removing her contacts. She had just managed to fish the enormous red disc out of her left eye when the door slid open and Purple entered.  
  
And there was Deya, wearing only half of her costume, with one purple eye and one red eye, with her antenna extra-curly for the occasion. She paused with one finger pressed against her right eye and her jaw open slightly in surprise. Deya looked at Purple, standing in the doorway opposite the mirror with a confused expression on his face.  
  
"Hey, Red...I thought..." Purple started, one eye squinched partially closed. "I thought this was the bathroom. Can you tell me where it is?" Deya cleared her throat and responded, trying to mimic Red's voice as best she could.  
  
"It's ah...down the hall and to the left. Yeah." Deya coughed.  
  
"Thanks Red! Hey...you might wanna get your eyes checked...they look kind of...not good." He commented, then wiggled his antennae farewell and zoomed away. Deya leaned her forehead against the mirror and sighed deeply, nearly melting into a puddle from relief. Then she locked her door and removed her other contact.  
  
Meanwhile, the real Red was in a considerably more dire predicament.  
  
"Zim! Release me at this moment!" He commanded, but Zim only shook his infernally short head.  
  
"My Tallest, your legs are broken, your Voot-Cruiser is a melted heap of metal, and your hover belt was...ah...tragically destroyed in the crash." The invader nodded fervently.  
  
"Anyway, I am honored by your presence! It brings a tear to my eye that my Tallest have not forgotten me, and has arrived to assist me in my conquering of this blasted chunk of rock! ...but that will have wait. I must go to Skool now...but don't worry, GIR will be taking care of you while I am gone! Goodbye, my Tallest!" Zim waved and pranced out of the room, leaving Red strapped to the bed, comatose from shock and dread. Just when he thought Zim had at last been gotten rid of for good, he fund himself tied to a bed in the pit of Zim's laboratory. Oh, the irony.  
  
"Hello!" A high-pitched robotic voice greeted Red from below the level of the bed. The incapacitated leader glanced around nervously.  
  
"Hello...little...thing..." He replied hesitantly, the pulled at the straps around his arm and laughed falsely. "Hehe, how about loosening these ties, huh? Red's loosing circulation in his forearms...heh...hehe..." Trailing off, Red listened hopefully for a response.  
  
"Aww, but I wanted you to see my puppet-show!" The voice whined. Abruptly, a strange-looking SIR hopped up onto the foot of the bed, a sock covering one arm and a piece of bacon clutched in the other hand. Before Red could ask for the robot to kindly shoot him in the head, it began acting out a bizarre, barely-coherent scene between the sock and the bacon. It seemed to involve a large amount of tapioca-pudding references, and something called 'adultery.'  
  
"Rrrh, but Bacon! I loooove you! Jockstrap doesn't mean nothin' to me! Come back, come back!" The malfunctioning SIR Unit finished, and then bowed. Red remembered him now; GIR, the broken SIR with trash for brains. The Tallest closed his eyes, thankful that the puppet show was over, when suddenly another one began almost immediately.  
  
"Sock! You smell like...like...like cows! Have you been foolin' around with the milkman again?! Sock! Socksocksocksocksocksock!" GIR screeched, making the bacon ferociously assault the sock on his other hand. He fell backwards off the bed and rolled around on the floor, his voice alternating between the nasally bacon-voice and the slightly deeper-but-still-nasal-and-whiny sock voice. Red lifted his head forward a few inches, then slammed it ferociously back onto the bed. He repeated this over and over as GIR's puppet show continued, hoping to bring on merciful unconsciousness. 


	4. Chapter Four: Ninja Dib strikes!

Title: Invader Zim and the Mid-life Crisis of Red, Chapter Four: Ninja-Dib Author: Just Zim, pretty much all by myself now. If it weren't for Red&Purple standing behind me with a cattle prod, though, I'd probably stop writing. A/N: This chapter seemed a little long and awkward to me, but I wasn't exactly sure what I should do to fix it. Anyway, this particular part of the story is dedicated to Kaity from my school, who is...um...I dunno, worthy of something dedicated to her. But not anything too big, because we don't want it going to her head.  
  
At last, at 12:00 filthy Earthen slug time, blackness closed in around Red's vision and sent him off into an unconscious state. Either that or coma-land. Either one was a welcome location. GIR had grown bored of the sordid relationship between Socklady and Mr. Bacon, and had curled up in a large salad bowl fetched from the kitchen to snooze quietly.  
  
So, it was mid-afternoon, and all through the base, not a creature was stirring, unless you count GIR's face (which was twitching madly in response to a dream about lime-flavored Poop cola.)  
  
But, exactly as the digital readout clock above the stove clicked 12:01, things were slightly less peaceful at Zim's base. You see, while Zim had correctly gauged the gross ignorance of Earth's population, he had forgotten the one Earth being who was not that ignorant at all. The one who had an eye on Zim 24-7, even when he was sleeping. When he was eating. And when he was bathing. And don't go thinking that's sick and perverted, because Irkens don't even have genders and, genetically at least, are the equivalents of robots. Hah! Soil that with your disgustingly fertile little shipper minds! Ahem, sorry. On with the story.  
  
I am, of course, talking about Dib. While Zim's neighbors had not noticed the enormous smoking crater in the Irken's yard, Dib had. And because his father was probably too busy to notice if one of his children sprouted a third eyeball and randomly secreted noxious green slime, Dib figured he could skip a day of skool without attracting any undue attention.  
  
That all settled by the time noon came around, the paranormal expert-in- training donned his most expensive, all-black ninja-wear, which he failed to realize was horribly conspicuous in the day time, not to mention itchy and hot. It did make him feel stealthy though, which was what he was going for.  
  
Ninja-wear sufficiently donned, Dib loaded a black backpack with a video camera, a grapple-hook, some suction gloves, and masking tape. Because you never know when you might need masking tape. Then he tucked a loaded Supersoaker under his arm and crept to Zim's house. Dib kept the cover of bushes, mailboxes, parked cars, and catatonic sidewalk-lounging puppies as he went. The street was empty, but you never knew when someone might be watching.  
  
But as it turned out, Dib had overdone it, just a bit. The lawn gnomes didn't so much as twitch as he stepped onto the property; in fact, nothing at all happened. No lasers abruptly firing, no sirens wailing, no green- skinned alien attacking him on giant metal spider legs...zip.  
  
And the door was wide open.  
  
"It's got to be a trap...hah, I've outsmarted you trying to outsmart me, ZIM!" Dib muttered to himself, smirking. He slunk a little nearer to the door and fired a jet of water through the doorway, in case Zim was hiding in the shadows, or there was anything motion-tripped waiting in there. He then flinched backwards as if waiting for an explosion, but all he heard was a dog barking somewhere a few streets away. He opened his eyes and straightened, then squared his shoulders and dove through the doorway.  
  
He somersaulted clumsily into the dark living room and bolted to his feet, water gun at the ready. Complete silence greeted his ears, no matter how long he waited for something with teeth to pop out at him.  
  
When nothing did, he slowly straightened and crept spider-like towards the kitchen. The soft sounds of breathing reached him; a wheezy, mechanical breathing interspersed with giggles and mutterings of bathing in something bubbly, and the steadier, deeper sound of something fairly large, with the hint of a snore. They both were clearly asleep, as their breath was much louder and more rhythmic than normal.  
  
Tensing up, Dib's psyche changed from that of a ninja to that of a SWAT- team captain. Very quickly. Dib pressed one shoulder against the doorframe leading into the kitchen and paused, listening for any change in the breathing noises. When all seemed safe, he leaped into the tile kitchen and aimed his gun straight ahead of him.  
  
"Freeze! I'm draggin' your sorry alien butt to jail, Zim!" Dib yelled, deepening his voice just a bit.  
  
But Zim wasn't there. What was there, however, was a strange little humanoid robot curled up in a bowl and...at first Dib thought the mess on the table was the wreckage of a small vehicle, like a go-cart or something. But when he examined it closer, it proved to be breathing. Then Dib sighted a bald green ahead amidst the shards of metal and machinery, and his eyes widened as he quickly scrabbled to get his hands on his video camera.  
  
Even though Dib wouldn't know an Irken ruler if it bit him in the face, he instinctively knew that with this discovery on the table, he had struck the mother lode.  
  
Meanwhile, back at Planet Irk, Deya had just finished donning her Red-wear when an obese and pompous-looking Advisor strode into the room. When he spoke, it was as if he were talking to a great crowd of people, not just her.  
  
"My Tallest Red, your presence is required in the video room." He thundered, his eyes focused somewhere on the far wall.  
  
"What? What for?" Deya asked nervously, crossing her arms.  
  
"Probing Day, of course!" The Advisor responded, his beady dark green eyes meeting hers for a moment in a subtle warning. "Surely my almighty Tallest knew this day was approaching."  
  
"Oh...well, naturally. I thought you meant the other video room, which is, you know...not for Probing Day and...and stuff." She amended unconvincingly, and thought she detected a small sigh slumping the shoulders of the self- important Advisor. Nevertheless, he said no more and simply waddled out of the room. Deya followed, admiring how smoothly her hoverbelt kept her up. No stinking on-foot travel for her anymore; now she hovered! In the middle of making up a theme song involving hovering, the Advisor turned and regarded her with a well-masked confused expression.  
  
"My Tallest, why are you following me?" He questioned, tilting his head and watching her closely. Deya blinked and looked around.  
  
"I was just proceeding to the video room with you..." She stammered, then tried to clasp her hands and only succeeded in slamming the two metal armguards together loudly. The taller Irken winced, wishing she could move her thumb and third finger. But they'd been hidden inside the armor, jammed in ridiculously small metal cavities carved for them. It hurt. A lot.  
  
"But...I'm going to the restroom..." The Advisor said slowly, and Deya noticed that he stood in front of the door to male's restroom. Exactly how she could tell it was the male's, we will probably never know because the plaque on the female's restroom next door was exactly the same as the male's. But she obviously knew the difference, as her antennae tips curled in an expression of embarrassment. Luckily, the Advisor quickly continued as several janitors stopped to watch them curiously.  
  
"Although of course you knew that, My Tallest...and of course you knew that the video room is on the floor above this, three doors left from the snack bar..."  
  
"Of course I did." Deya replied, lifting her head and trying to sound as arrogant as possible.  
  
When at last she arrived at the proper room, Purple was waiting impatiently for her. He had already brought up the alphabetical list of Invaders, and his cursor was impatiently hovering over 'Alexovich – Splenda, Planet of the Man-Eating Sugar Packets' which was first on the list.  
  
"Finally, Red! Come on, sit down. I have a great idea for this year! Two words; flamenco dancing!" He shouted gleefully. Deya sat, and the Probing commenced. 


End file.
